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Seamel Hospitality
'''Northreach Constabulary ---- ::When an outsider commits an offense against the property or person of a member of House Seamel or other landed citizen of Northreach, or when two Seamel kinfolk cannot settle a dispute through negotiations, their issues are brought before the constabulary. It is the constable's role to hear the facts involved in a dispute, to question the accused, the aggrieved and any available witness, and then to make a ruling. ::This chamber, contained within a structure of quarried gray stone, has a raised biinwood platform where the Constable sits in judgment, chairs for witnesses, two holding cells for prisoners, and four long pews for members of the public to assemble and observe the proceedings. ---- Taran is stretched out on the floor of the cell, his Lute across his chest and manacled hands behind his head. All the scenery aside though, the bard seems rather at ease, even dozing. Duhnen steps into the Constabulary from the cold night, exchanging nods with the standing guards, before moving along to the back of the room and passing to the cell area. He clicks his tongue upon seeing Taran laying there. Stepping forward, he knocks on one of the bars to get his attention. Taran doesn't crack open an eye, but doesn't need to. "Your kinsmen have little grasp of the word 'ambassador', Duhnen," he says mildly. "Nor that I hardly intended to land in Northreach. Kind of you to come on short notice, though." "My kinsman acted correctly, seeing as you did land here, and you're not a citizen," Duhnen states. "Who were you trying to contact?" "That, I am afraid, remains my own business," Taran replies mildly. "And house arrest would have done. A room at the tavern, under guard, until my claim could be verified...all manner of more mannerly things than this. When you arrest Sahna and put her in the cell next door, I will say he acted correctly. The law is not equal here, and never has been. The question remains - what are *you* going to do?" "Well, it became our business when you popped into the tavern and caused a panic," Duhnen rolls his eyes. "Rage all you want, but it won't do you much good. Again, who were you off to contact? Perhaps I can ask them to meet you." "I am raging?" asks Taran, still in that quite calm, quite mild tone. He hasn't opened his eyes, or moved to get up. "Release me, return my personal effects, and you can come with me. As I said; I hardly intended to land in the tavern, I walked here quite without any resistance, and I will send the tavern flowers as an apology when I may. Though the city is rather more on edge than I recall it being." "I'd never pegged you as a literalist, being a bard and all," Duhnen deadpans, leaning against the wall. "Where were you going, then? I figure you must have been trying to meet with someone who lives here. Kael or Meian, perhaps?" Taran sighs, and the chains clink as he tugs the hood of his leather cloak down over his eyes. "As I said. Release me, return my personal effects, and you may come with me." "No. I'll send word to the Regent to have this dealt with. I'm not going to muddle in intra-realm affairs," Duhnen snorts, glancing to the large, and moving over to it. Fishing out a large key, he unlocks it and peers inside, connsidering the contents, before closing it back up and securing it. "The Archmage will be disappointed to hear that, Duhnen," Taran replies, unconcerned. "But I will remember it, for future consideration. Good night." "I'll go visit her and let her know, and do you a favor," Duhnen shrugs at that. "Evening." Category:Logs